Dreaming
by Melancholic Zero
Summary: The world meeting at France's house has ended, but England had accidentally fallen asleep, so France decides to test his limits with the other man. FrUK; Rated M for swearing and lemon.


The meeting at France's house had been as inane as any other. The usual business had been discussed, with a special focus on economic issues and how to properly handle them, which had, of course, ended in a large argument encompassing nearly everyone involved.

France was _bored._ So incredibly _bored._

He sat at the table, the sound of his pencil tapping muffled on the notepad that was before him.

_So bored._

There was a roll of his eyes when he heard China's voice raise and another argument begin. He couldn't believe how easy it was for the others to continue to talk about such matters as economics and policy, guarding against issues that hadn't even come close to happening yet. Worry about the bridge when you get to it, right? Something like that.

Lightly running his tongue over his dry lips, he mentally begged for something to happen. He was getting a bit annoyed, actually. Whenever things got this dull, his mind unconsciously drifted to sex. It wasn't that France didn't enjoy romance just as much, sex was just easier to imagine, to think, fantasize about, to remember…

He thought about it so much that it was boring to him now. He was no longer a teenager, why didn't these mental takeovers cease? Was everyone like that, or just him?

Maybe taking Marie out to dinner after the meeting would free him of this annoyance temporarily. Or perhaps Elaine. Abelle? Hm…decisions, decisions…

His attention snapped back to the meeting when he heard a door slam, apparently China had heard something he didn't like and decided to leave. Almost like clockwork, tension began to tick louder and louder in the room, countries looking at each other with growing unease. China's exit had obviously triggered the end of the meeting, thank goodness, and soon enough the other began to file out of the room, not having any desire to stick around, thank goodness.

France stood up, stretching both arms and strolling over to his wine cooler and pouring himself a cool glass of the tasty beverage, placing the bottle on the counter beside him.

He leaned against the wall for a few moments before leisurely walking forward, back into the room where the meeting was held in order to enjoy the view out of the rather large window placed there.

However, his attention was quickly drawn away from the gorgeous French scenery by a rather interesting something. Or _someone. _A messy-haired Brit had decided to fall asleep during the meeting, it seemed, and was still snoozing away in his chair, arms crossed on the table.

France didn't have much cause to be bored any more. He could have some fun with this! He soon found himself behind the sleeping man, wanting to check how light his sleep was, so he prodded England lightly on the back of the head "Oiiii…" he said softly, as smile splitting his lips as he realized how easy it would be to mess with him like this "You awake?"

Just as France had expected, there was no reply save for a small, annoyed grunt. England was definitely asleep; otherwise he would have jumped up and obnoxiously yelled something rude before hightailing it out of there. The only movement he made was a shift of the arms, probably to get more comfortable as France's smile widened. For a few drawn-out seconds, France hovered behind him, careful to make no further sound.

He stared at England's mess of blonde hair, reaching out one hand towards him, as if approaching a wild animal, devilish grin never leaving his face. He leaned forward, rustle of the fabric he wore barely audible as he positioned his mouth right next to England's left ear, using one hand to brush the hair covering it aside.

How should he mess with him…oh, he knew what to do.

After a moment or two, France began to moan in a high pitch to mock a woman's, quiet and slow at first, gradually growing quick and loud, hot breath blasting against England's exposed ear. His silly efforts were soon rewarded; he saw England's face twitch into an expression of utter confusion as France continued his erotic noise-making, broken only by a quiet snicker that almost ruined the whole thing.

He wanted more. Confuse England more. Fuck with the little idiot's head a bit further…

Reaching one hand down in front of England, he withdrew his moans a bit, instead whispering his name lovingly as he got even closer to England's ear. His hand pressed against the bulge in England's pants, teasingly rubbing up against it. He held back further laughter as he watched England seem to become more and more confused, the interaction stirring him a bit from his sleep. Even so, France wasn't prepared for England's subconscious reaction, he felt the other man's hips move, bucking and grinding against his hand.

Oh shit. No way. This was rich!

Convincing himself that he was mistaking his enjoyment of England's particular situation for eagerness, (He couldn't want this, of course. England was disgusting. So very ugly, stupid, bland, foolish, sexy, slender, interesting—damn it) France leaned against England's back, careful not to put too much pressure upon him as he felt his own breath involuntarily speed up, moans fading in and out of England's hearing.

There was a sudden question that appeared in France's mind. How far could he go before England woke up? Even a lazy guy like him couldn't sleep through _that _much.

He spoke into England's ear, feeling his lips brush against its pale skin. His voice was a low purr now, the way he usually spoke when he teased England at the worst of times "Do you know what I want to do?" he asked quietly "I want to tie you down. I want to see exactly what you taste like right _here._" He pressed two fingers against the bulge that he felt between England's legs, in this time it had already started to harden "Touch every nook and cranny of your body with these two hands; places you didn't even know you _had."_ Being able to talk like this was nice, the type of girls France usually were with preferred sweet words to the dirtier way of speaking, though France had mastered both ways of conversing "You wouldn't be able to do a thing about it." he murmured "Just _scream_ and _scream_ and _scream."_

For the first time, England began to moan, and France slipped his hand down the front of his pants, into his boxers. The moment his skin touched England's, England's green eyes became visible, eyelids opening sleepily.

France didn't know what stopped England from freaking out, but he guessed that waking up to something like this was just too confusing. After all, England was hard as a rock and mid-moan when he must have regained consciousness.

"Bloody 'ell…" these stereotypical words were the first ones that had flowed from England's pink lips during this whole ideal, a haze hung over his expression, face immediately reddening as the tips of France's fingers made contact with the head of his dick.

Pausing to lick his lips, France kept his voice as calm as he could, trying to keep England confused "I want you, England…" it was scary now how easily these words came to him "I want you so bad…" he murmured "You can't just show off that gorgeous ass your whole life and expect me to sit back and do nothing…Mon Dieu, I _need_ you, England…"

He felt a slight wetness on his fingers, feeling the pre cum roll down England's trapped member. It was difficult, as he leaned further against England he suddenly felt the need to resist, resist the urge to rape England senseless right there and then. Why not voice it? "You know what I could do? I could slam you against this table right now and fuck you 'til we both pass out from exhaustion. What's stopping me, huh? Nothing, that's what."

Drool dripped down England's mouth, apparently the younger nation wasn't aware of it. However, he now seemed much more alert, turning his head to look at France, uncrossing his arms and digging his nails into the table. France could see that England was trying to suppress any noise now "France? Wh-"

"Quiet down." he hissed, hand moving once again "Go back to sleep, England."

He heard England moan once again, he saw conflict in England's dull eyes "Nnn…" he slumped, back against France. This came as a momentary surprise to France, he had at least expected a slap across the face.

"England?"

"Fuck you."

"Are you asleep…?" a stupid question, sure, but maybe he was…sleep talking? And moaning? And bucking?

"Why do people in dreams always ask such stupid questions?"

"Ah…can I keep going?"

"Sure. It's a bloody dream. I'll wake up before anything happens, anyway. Every single bloody time…"

Relief shot through France, though he tried to kill that emotion the moment it appeared. He slowly began to undo England's pants, grinning as he freed England's massive boner. His eyes widened as sudden pain shot through him; England had dug his nails into his wrists and drew blood. France guessed instinct overpowered England's suspicions that this was all a dream.

He peeled England's hands off, once again wrapping his thin fingers around England's cock. He pumped his hand up and down one again, kissing the sensitive spot under England's ear oh-so-lightly "Say, England…How does it feel?"

"F-fuck…" England didn't seem like he felt much like talking "Bloody fantastic…" France heard a small annoyed groan "Heck, if you didn't repulse me I might actually _like _it." England's voice cracked as he said this, making him sound like he was lying. Or going through puberty. Honestly, France wouldn't put it past him.

He felt himself grab England by the collar, forcing England onto the table before lowering his pants. He didn't feel too much like playing any more. "You can be as loud as you like…" he whispered "It's a dream. I promise it'll be the best dream you've ever had…" France ignored England's squirming, undoing his own pants and rubbing himself. It didn't take much to get his own penis up at all. Reminding England that it was simply a dream, France pulled open a nearby cabinet and pulled out some lubricating oil.

He realized that he wouldn't want to stop once he started, and he couldn't be able to take that kind of embarrassment anyway. He decided to make good on some of his earlier talk, undoing England's tie and tying England's skinny wrists together in front of him. He barely held back an excited grin, covering his lower area with the oil before thrusting himself into England without warning.

"_OW!"_ England screeched "Idiot! Wanker! That fucking hurts!"

"Hush, Angleterre," he chuckled "I'll make it feel good. Don't you worry your fuzzy little face."

France rammed into him, hand sliding up England's back, pushing him up the table as a result. England's pathetic whimper of pain reached his ears, and France responded to it in a dry voice "Oh, you poor—dear, does it—hurt?" he asked teasingly in between thrusts.

"Fucking…arse… of course it hurts!" England's voice came out as a snarl, which made France chuckle even harder. It sounded pretty bad.

"You haven't done this before, have you, England?"

"Hell no! Why would I- agh…ahnn…."

"Figured you wouldn't be used to the whole _sex_ thing…" France's voice had a sudden strain upon it, it was getting more and more difficult to focus on talking. He looked down at England, whose forehead was pressed on the table and his hands were gripping the table, perhaps hard enough to damage it.

"F-fuck…" France noticed just how often England had been cursing lately. England's heavy panting made France go even harder, even more aroused by it, and England's voice came out as a low whimper "I…I have shagged girls plenty of times, I'll have you know!"

"Have you now? You know I've known you since your birth, right?"

"Doesn't mean you know…everything I've done in my bed…shit…you don't know everything I've done in my bed, do you?"

"Onhonhon…you're not worth _that_ much effort. But darling, you've still got virgin written all over you."

The other man yelped in pain "You Frog…so what? _So what?"_

"Hah! So I'm-" France paused, clenching his teeth for a moment "So I'm right!"

"It's only because I'm not a bloody tramp!"

England seemed to go quiet after this; France also had nothing more to say. Pleasure seemed to envelop him, moving in and out of England sent jolts up his body, making him feel hotter and hotter. Something triggered in his mind, a white hot sensation that made him cry out quietly, feeling his seed spill into England, leaving the younger man whimpering and trembling beneath him.

A sly grin crossed France's face as he pulled out of him, letting out a long, slow breath "Now why don't you turn around, Angleterre?" he gingerly held onto England's arms, turning him around. England's expression was hilarious; it took France a few seconds to gather the willpower to look away. England had begun to drool again, but he still looked, like always, positively annoyed by France. For a brief moment, France wished he had seen England's face when he had been thrusting in and out of him, but it was too late for that now…oh well. He could still drive England mad, and he knew it.

Not a word had passed from England's lips during these moments, he seemed more wary than anything, as he should have been. Because France knew _exactly_ what to do to him now. He kneeled down, staring at England's reddened member with a kind of mischievous curiosity before opening his mouth and licking the underside of it slowly.

_Bam._

France quickly received a boot to the neck, followed by an angry, shuddering gasp from England.

"Oi, what was that for?"

"I don't like the way your stupid Frog tongue feels on my skin!" The other man squeaked, apparently attempting to cross his legs.

On some kind of instinct, France grabbed his legs and pulled him forward. He silently reminded himself to be careful. He didn't want to actually perform any kind of rape on England. Even so, his voice switched to a sickening sweetness that he was used to using in situations similar to these "I wouldn't raise your voice at me, Angleterre," he paused "I could make you miserable if I wanted to."

"You make me miserable on a daily basis, git!"

That was all France needed, the vague string that could be mistaken for confirmation that France wanted before proceeding, "But this right here isn't something we do on a daily basis-"

"_Obviously."_

"-so there are new ways to torture you." he held his legs down manually "Try to keep it down, eh, Angleterre?" France pressed his tongue against the head of England's warm, throbbing dick, closing his mouth about it and running his tongue onto the slit, removing the precum from it. He heard another loud swear word and a moan, and France once again refrained from laughing.

It'd be tough to do so in his current position, anyway.

France's mouth had gotten more and more talented at his current activity with all of the practice provided to him in the past, he knew all of the places for his tongue to touch to make England squirm, and he exploited the _hell _out of it. Anyway, he knew that he had to exhaust England enough to fall asleep after this was over. France's safety depended on it, anyway (he desperately hoped the rumours about the probability of Englishmen falling asleep in…certain situations were true.) He drew out the seconds, tongue lightly touching the shaft, one hand rising to cradle England's balls.

"_France, for the love of-"_ England's voice was broken by more pathetic noises, and France pulled away for a moment, his lips still close enough to breathe hot air onto his dick. Finally, he got to see England's face properly. It was as red as a tomato, and England was _crying. Crying._

"Do you want more?"

"Yes!" Wow, his voice was squeaky "I do!"

France couldn't hold back a chuckle this time "I never thought I'd hear you say that, England…Why don't you beg me…?"

"Just fucking do it already!"

"Ah, is that what begging sounds like in your country?"

"Fuck you!"

"I'm still not hearing it…" there was an audible grinding of teeth, which made France smile wider. England was close…

After a lot of swearing in English, England spoke "P-please, France…"

"Go on. Give me more than that."

"What more do I say?!' England's voice was raised now, making France even happier. Oh, Angleterre was so very desperate…

"_Beg me."_ he ordered, raising his eyebrows.

There seemed to be an inner struggle, shown by the looks flashing across England's face. The Brit was trapped, and France knew that he knew it.

"D-dammit…" England began "S-suck me off…please, I'm begging you…" his voice cracked under the effort of the next three words "Big…brother France…"

France laughed loudly, he had waited for so long for England to call him that "Oh, Angleterre, how I love you…" he chuckled before he turned his attention back to England's member. He wasted no time now, giving England exactly what he wanted, tongue investigating every part of it, leaving nothing untouched.

He heard England approach the edge, moans growing more and more intense, and he bucked into France's throat without warning "Fr—" he bit back what he was going to say, most likely Frances name as he came into France's throat.

And France swallowed every drop, savouring the taste of the prize he had lusted after for so long "Well?" his voice was nearly a whisper "How did it feel, England?"

He noticed England's eyelids droop, as if overtaken by sudden fatigue. Strange… "Good…"

A grin once again appeared on France's face, and he brushed to bangs lovingly out of England's eyes "Honestly…" he whispered "You're so dense…"

"And you're a Frog."

Sleep claimed England once again.


End file.
